


Blood and Bruises, Honking and Hatred

by textualErudite (traceExcalibur)



Series: Skaian Library Follower Drive [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Biology, Blood, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Oral Sex, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:44:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traceExcalibur/pseuds/textualErudite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Though her carefully rehearsed ‘>:O’ face may have suggested otherwise, it came as no surprise to Terezi when she awoke to the shaving-cream scent of Gamzee’s facepaint, the clown leaning over her with a hand at her throat and another pinning her cane arm down.</p>
</blockquote>A relatively straightforward fic in which Terezi and Gamzee hatebang, written for the Skaian Library Follower Drive contest.
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Bruises, Honking and Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if the content of this fic technically counts as non-con, since the concept of a romance based on hate kind of muddles with the consent barrier, but I tagged it anyways just in case. (NOTE: Haha, wow, this was written long before Terezi/Gamzee turned out to be a canon abusive ship. In retrospect, I don't think I would've written the fic like this. Keep that in mind when reading.)

Terezi wasn’t entirely sure when she started truly hating Gamzee, but she could make a guess. It started, she thought, as early as the moment her cerulean-stained sword clattered to the ground, and she threw her arms around Karkat, and she heard a honk. It was when Gamzee walked up behind them completely alive, wearing that shit-eating grin and holding his hammer and staring down Karkat as if to ask, “What now, bro?” In that instant she realized that he had forged the letter, forged the circumstances, forged _everything_ as he saw fit. She had made a mistake – she had taken a life that need not be taken, all for the sake of some twisted justice enforced by a nutjob in shitty facepaint.

She hated herself for a while simply for being so stupid, and she hated him more, far more, for being the troll pulling the strings. He took up his helm as puppet-master and led them all into a trap, he decided it was up to him to choose who would live and who would die and he did it all based on some arbitrary system of his own design. He manipulated the circumstances perfectly and he emerged no worse for the wear – he stained his hands with blood and came up smelling deliciously grapey.

In essence, she began to hate him because he was a better, crueler, more _disgusting_ version of herself. She saw in him everything she almost was, before she abandoned FLARP and tried to stick to the straight and narrow.  Were they so different? She, killing people in the name of “justice”, and he, killing them just because that was what he was born to do? It was a haunting question, one that boiled her blood.

He was like her. And so, she knew he was not to be trusted.

She was on edge every time she passed him by, and so were Kanaya and the humans. The only one who seemed to feel even the slightest bit comfortable in his presence was Karkat, who was both more brave and more stupid than she would have expected. Gamzee seemed, at least, calm and absent-minded whilst Karkat was nearby – a shadow of his old, harmless personality – but left too long to his own devices, he began to crack again. They had yet to figure out what he was doing with the dead bodies, but it surely couldn’t be good. Every now and then he would make violent advances on someone only to have Karkat come barrelling into the room froth-snorting and flailing his arms and shouting Gamzee down. It began to wear on her after a while, and only her affections for Karkat and copious amounts of self-restraint kept her from taking action.

The best escape was sleep – she could go visit her fallen friends in the dream world. None of them seemed to bear any ill-will towards Gamzee, but then, they didn’t seem to bear much ill-will at all. She had looked fruitlessly for Vriska to make an apology, but her former sister was nowhere to be found. Her time spent asleep was time spent exploring her memory, consorting with her old FLARP buddies, and gawking at the strange human girl who would float through every now and then, decked in tasty grape pajamas.

But sleep meant vulnerability. What if Gamzee happened across her while she was taking a snooze? He knew all of the secret passages, it seemed, and he could easily slip in unnoticed, before her groggy mind could sniff him out. She couldn’t count on Karkat to be there every time. She could smell the distaste on his tongue every time she spoke or looked at him, and she knew he considered her a threat.

Though her carefully rehearsed ‘>:O’ face may have suggested otherwise, it came as no surprise to her when she awoke to the shaving-cream scent of Gamzee’s facepaint, the clown leaning over her with a hand at her throat and another pinning her cane arm down.

“You’re goin’ to do all what I motherfuckin’ say,” he whispered, snarling down at her. “OR CATCH THE WICKED NEWS UP ABOUT YOUR IMMINENT MOTHERFUCKIN’ DYIN’. Got it?”

“I knew you weren’t trustworthy.” she choked out. “You have been lying to everyone! You dispense lies like a bard dispenses shitty music!”

“I’m just all givin’ people what they want, sis. Karkat wants me not gettin’ my motherfuckin subjugglate on, so I’m givin’ you the chance to submit. And you all want to up and be black for me, right?”

She grimaced. “Sadly.”

“Aw,” Gamzee whined, “Why you gotta go harshin’ on my mellow all like that? Gettin’ up and kismesissy with me is goin’ to be a big favour.”

A favour. Yeah, right. She wasn’t sure what she wanted – how platonic her hate was, whether to kill or spare him, why she couldn’t just rest and let Karkat placate the clown – but she knew that being left as his mercy was not what she wanted at all.

…at least, she _thought_ it wasn’t.

“Now, I don’t be knowing all what kinds of toys you like, but I brought up the motherfuckin’ Jokerkind so we can get on to findin’ out,” Gamzee drawled, and he decaptchalogued a number of objects. She smelled something blunt, and something sharp and silver, and a delectable curved cherry that could only be Karkat’s clawsickle. “Does the lady like her clubs? Sickles, or…naw, those’ll be up and remindin’ you of my bestest buddy…hm, how’s about a knife?”

His blade pressed against the back of her outfit., just below her rear. He dug the point into the fabric and with a single, precise flick upwards, slashed a hole through it. His nails tore at the fabric until it left her completely exposed. A very light scent, shaped like the petal-like protrusions of her sex, wafted towards her. He pressed his hand against it and she shivered.

“If you like knives so much you should do us all a favour and join Jack’s fan club!” she hissed. “I don’t find them very palatable.”

“Awww, Tee Zee, why d’you keep on raggin’ my bulge all up into a twist?” Gamzee sighed. “I’ll get myself rid of it, but what ought I ‘a be usin’ instead?”

She gave him no answer. Instead, the moment she heard the subtle _click_ of the knife being captchalogued, she bucked up against him and threw him to the side. He was caught off guard and she turned in a fragrant whirl until she found his blurry form and her fist met the side of his face. He staggered backwards and she pressed in with a shot to the gut, and when he yelped she leaned in and sank her teeth into his shoulder. Warm blood, wet and delicious, spurted from the wound and he hissed and drew back. A sudden peppermint whir signalled his club and it crashed into her face, sending her reeling back, and the adrenaline flooding her body left her breathless with pleasure for the slight second he needed to continue the assault unhindered. The rush of each strike was a beautiful, terrible stench and each hit sent shivers through her body and a sudden, throbbing ache, and finally she came to her senses and threw her arms up to block. The club crashed against her and she knocked it aside and stepped forwards, her arms pushing against him and she leaned in and _kissed_ him, biting down on his lips and savoring the indigo taste and the sound of his growl. He pushed her back and slapped her across the face and she gave him only cackles in response.

“DON’T YOU DARE MOTHERFUCKIN’ KISS ME!” he roared. A chorus of angry _honk honk honk_ s filled the air, coming, seemingly, from nowhere.  “No fuckin’ peasantblood like you has all the right to be fuckin’ doin’ that, you get what it is I’m sayin’?”

“I just did!” she said between gasps of both pain and delight. “And what are you going to—“

In a flash he was behind her, his fist barrelling into the back of her head. It crashed against her think pan and she collapsed to the ground. Her head pounding, she quickly rolled to the side and threw herself away from him.

“Tch, tch, tch…you’re gettin’ all up and heated now, ain’t you got any shame?”

Terezi looked downwards and sniffed, and surely enough a watery, almost-minty aroma was emanating from her nook. Small rivulets of teal fluid ran from her torn clothing down her legs. Her cheeks flushed and she instinctively moved to cross her legs and hide herself from Gamzee’s prying eyes.

“You smell really disgusting.” she replied, wrinkling her nose.

“YOU’RE SMELLIN’ REAL MOTHERFUCKIN’ HORNY.” Gamzee said, and then he snickered.

“Yes,” she admitted, “but if you think I will let that get in the way of justice, you are very mistaken!”

“Justice?” he asked, and in a flash he was beside her. She flinched and made to pull away, but he did not attack. “What are you up and fillin’ my motherfuckin hear ducts about? MOTHERFUCKIN’ JUSTICE?”

“Yes!” she barked back. “For the murders of my friends!”

Gamzee laughed – it was long, loud, and pungent, and it lingered in the air after he finished and regarded her with a sour glare.

“That ain’t motherfuckin’ justice. THEY WAS LOWER THAN ME! Cullin’ is my motherfuckin’ callin’, heh, and they got all what my mirthful messiahs said they deserved.

…but my good moirail told me I was up and doin’ the wrong thing. Listenin’ to the messiahs at the WRONG MOTHERFUCKIN’ TIME. Spreadin’ their harshwhimsies where they don’t got to be spread. So I fuckin’ stopped. AND NOW YOU ALL WANT TO BE SICCIN’ YOUR BULLSHIT MOTHERFUCKIN’ JUSTICES UPON ME? I got to be askin’, then…what all have I done to earn it?”

She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth, mind racing, but she could find no response. The Alternian Moral Code clearly stated that Subjugglators could murder those below them with no recompense, simply because of their blood colour. Legally, she had nothing on him. And yet…and yet…it just did not sit right with her. Not now, not having seen her friends lying dead before her.

“You ain’t talkin’ justice, Rez…YOU ARE NOT TALKIN’ SHIT BUT REVENGE.”

“I’m talking _real_ justice, not the fakey fake imitation that you try to throw around. Getting off on charges because of blood color is bullshit! Killing people because of blood color is, too! It all smells of hoofbeast manure!”

“So what you going to motherfuckin’ do about it?”

She responded by lunging forwards and swinging a fist. It caught him in the chin and he shouted, and before he could respond she was upon him, fists swinging wildly. If only she had kept her cane on her, she could really hurt him, but it felt far more satisfying to beat him to a pulp with her bare hands. Each blow was punctuated by a gory, fleshy smack, and soon he was bleeding heavily from his nose and blinking through swollen eyelids. She was too excited to realize before it was too late that he could have fought back at any moment – she reared back for a real haymaker of a punch and his hand shot out towards her throat, constricting around it in an instant. His fist met her squarely in the nose and it crumpled like a tin can, and with teal blood spurting out around her face, she was rendered effectively blind.

She tried to lash out and her nails raked across his stomach – at least, what felt like his stomach. He gasped for air and she freed herself with a kick, and barrelled into him, flailing and biting whatever she could reach, but it was futile. He merely grabbed her again, and pushed her against the ground, and she knew this time that she would not have the strength to escape him.

Her blood boiled and she knew a seething hate like she had never known before – how could she let him trick her, _again?_ She should have known he was just waiting for her to attack, so that he could strike again. She should have known that she could not overpower him; her wits, and not her strength, were surely the key to getting the best of him.

“What are you planning, Makara?” she asked, though she was damn sure she knew exactly what his plan was.

“Aw, I’m just up and helpin’ a sister out,” he replied, teasing the soft tendrils of her nook. A finger slipped inside momentarily and she felt a jolt up her spine. He pulled his fingers away and chuckled to himself. With blood clogging her nose she couldn’t see him, but she guessed that his hand was dripping wet. “See? You all up and need to get off. And it’s down to motherfuckin’ me to be the one what all gets you there.”

“I don’t want your help. If I want to get off I will have my own private getting off party and you won’t be invited!”

“That ain’t gonna fly, Tee Zee baby. IT’S JUST TOO MOTHERFUCKIN’ BAD, MOTHERFUCKER.”

Something hard – Gamzee’s bulge, no doubt – parted her tendrils and gave her another jolt. There was a moment of sudden, sharp pain as Gamzee brought his weight down on top of her, and next she knew he was buried deep inside her. She moaned out loud and he clasped a hand around her mouth, stifling it. She tried to bite at it but he kept his palm flat against her mouth. Without giving her the chance to acclimate, he began to pump his hips at a quick pace, his bulge scraping and grinding her insides.

“Ain’t no seein’ or smellin’ or speakin’ of anything what’s evil, got it?” he whispered in her ear, leaning in close and then raking his teeth along the back of her neck as he pulled away. “You just get to hear, and feel…AND MOTHERFUCKIN’ ENJOY IT.”

His weight kept her pinned to the ground, one hand around her mouth and the other pinning down an arm. Horns honked in the distance as she thrashed and tried to buck him off, but it was of no use and she was finding it harder and harder to care. Her body was tingling with pain, teal and indigo juices pooling between her legs, pleasure screaming through her every nerve. She gasped for breath and found next to nothing, sniffing up only the slightest bit of air with every spurt of blood from her nose. His bulge throbbed inside her and he slammed into her with every thrust, not a single care given for speed or gentleness. Gamzee growled and bit at her neck and shoulders and though he insisted he was doing this all for her – as though a violent, bloody fucking and damn near suffocation was par for the course for a normal troll acting like a normal friend – it felt more to her like he was just using her as some kind of masturbatory aid, like his own personal justice-obsessed humpbox.

That wasn’t the worst part, though…the worst part was that, with jet-black hatred bubbling like pitch through her veins and sinking its gnarled claws into her think pan…she _liked_ it. Her determination to enact justice was slipping, lost into a sea of swirling pain and pleasure and a little voice begging for more, saying, _Yes, Gamzee, yes I am enjoying this but you’re not going hard enough and it doesn’t hurt like it should and I need this, I really,_ really _do…_

As though he could read her mind he took his hand from her mouth and said, “Now, you’re all going to have to keep yourself quiet, ok?” He shifted his arm underneath her stomach and lifted her up in a sharp motion, knocking the wind from her. As she gasped he used his new leverage to plunge as deep as he possibly could, and his bulge pulsated and scratched her walls and sent new rivulets of pleasure streaming down her thighs and through her nerves. Pungent grape and vaporous arousal wafted amongst a watery, teal haze, and with a snort she blew her nose clean and she could see again, but her mind just couldn’t process it all and it emerged as a wet, sloppy, putrid blur. She knew her climax was close and she was disgusted at herself for letting him work her so close to the edge, but what choice did she have, what could she do at this point to stop him?

 _Use your wits,_ her mind began, but then he clawed at her breasts and his bulge smashed into her and whatever else her mind was going to say was lost to a loud, wavering moan. Gamzee said something that she couldn’t hear over the messy sounds of sex, and she began to convulse and twitch and next she went limp, and Gamzee stopped thrusting.

“…you up and motherfuckin’ came, didn’t you?”

She nodded her head weakly. She smelled the foul odour of a sinister grin painting his face.

“And I was all set onto punishin’ you, for makin’ a sound. I guess I can give you a motherfuckin’ pass. Just one, just this MOTHERFUCKIN’ ONCE.”

“Gee, thanks…” she whispered sarcastically. Gamzee clearly wasn’t pleased by the response, as he grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the ground, and stars popped in her mind along with a fresh wave of excitement.

“Don’t you disrespect me, little girl…” he snarled. “DON’T YOU DEROGATE OR DERIDE.”

“No thanks, I think I will continue to—“

Stinging, crushing pain flooded her cheek as he slammed her into the ground again, and she decided it would be smart not to speak again. She could practically taste the satisfaction on Gamzee’s breath, even with her mouth pressed against the floor.

“Good, good…now I’ve got to finish up what’s mine left to do. So do you want it inside, or motherfuckin’ out, baby girl?”

Near delirious with arousal, Terezi choked out, “Outside…” and Gamzee obliged. His bulge slid easily from her slick inner walls with a wet sound. She felt his hand at her neck, yanking her upwards and forcing her onto her knees, and then he coaxed her to turn around and face him. She sniffed the air and caught an almost overpowering scent – his bulge waiting just in front of her mouth, ready for her.

Terezi gasped for breath weakly and then set herself upon it without instruction, lapping up at the underside with her tongue and retching at the taste, and so too being delighted by it. It took only a moment for her to give in and wrap her lips around it and begin to suck, tasting and smelling and being entirely overwhelmed by the sensory overload, the pitch black hate and throbbing bulge and delicious grape swirling around and driving her wild. She bobbed her head quickly and gave herself to the taste and his hands reached around to the back of her head, pushing her down, forcing her to take it all down her throat. She gagged and retched some more and it seemed that was enough because with a final spasm a burst of jelly erupted from the tip of the bulge and sloshed down her throat. Her stomach felt like it was swelling up, boiling hot and filled to bursting. Gamzee pulled out slowly, pumping more into her mouth before finally pulling away and letting the rest coat her face and dribble down her front. She spent a few ecstatic moments bathing in his ugly, beautiful colours, spitting out what she could not swallow, and smearing the rest all over her body, and it was so electric she felt like her think pan would bubble out her ears and she would flood the room with teal.

Gamzee, seemingly satisfied with his work, stepped backwards and allowed himself to relax, limbs going limp and body slowing down.  He exhaled slowly, and grinned, and said, “See now, that wasn’t all so bad, and it felt all so good, so everything’s up and motherfuckin’ peachy, right?”

Gamzee closed his eyes for a split second and that was when she sprang. She swung her leg forward and it impacted squarely between his legs. He yelled at a pitch higher than usual and crumpled, and she stepped behind him, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“Motherfuckin’ how?” He choked, as he tried to throw her off.

“I faked that orgasm, dumbass!” Terezi grinned as she reared her hand back, and then she jabbed her fist into the back of his head and he went out like a light.

Once certain that he would not be waking up any time soon, Terezi lay down beside her conquered attacker. She ran her arms – slick and dripping with Gamzee’s jelly-like cum – all over and around her body, over her sex-splattered, full-up stomach, and her spread legs and aching sides. Her hands settled on tweaking her nipples and fingering her nook, and she finally gave in to the shuddering, orgasmic bliss. All of her senses seemed to explode at once and her hips bucked and convulsed, and she coated the insides of her thighs with her own warm, teal fluids. She scooped some up and mixed it with Gamzee’s and it formed the most sickening shade, and she was satisfied.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It took so long for Gamzee to wake up, Terezi almost abandoned him out of boredom. She was a busy girl, with walls to scrawl all over with her chalk, and hapless friends to annoy. Luckily for her – and unluckily for him – he did begin to rouse before she decided to call it quits. He peered around the room groggily before his eyes focused on her, and he tried to dart forwards to attack her. It was an abysmal failure, for she had bound his arms and legs tightly together while he was unconscious. He fell forwards and his descent was stopped only by a noose. It was strung somewhat loosely around his neck and looped around a sturdy hook in the ceiling, the other end gripped tightly in Terezi’s hand. He gasped and choked and flailed about and the smell of his panic and confusion was music to Terezi’s nostrils. Eventually he righted himself and took to glaring at her, as he had nothing else to do.

“What in the fuck is this? WHAT IN THE MOTHERFUCK IS MOTHERFUCKIN’ THIS, MOTHERFUCKER?”

Terezi giggled and her laughter gave way to cackles. “I told you I would punish you! Weren’t you paying attention? Blar, when you aren’t in control anymore, you are really dumb.”

“Shut your motherfuckin’ pie hole.” He snarled. “Don’t you do at me what you can’t take back, what you ain’t motherfuckin’ high enough to get away with.” She ignored him.

“I don’t give a crap about blood, as far as I care blood is only good for making everyone use fruity awesome-smelling colours in their chat programs! You hurt my friends and I am hurting you right back, and that’s fair and you are going to deal with it!”

Gamzee tried to speak again but found himself gasping for breath as Terezi pulled down on her rope, hoisting him into the air. The noose cut into his neck and he started to choke, gasping for breath and flailing about, trying to kick at her with his bound legs. He was heavier than she expected and she strained to keep him off the ground. It was a relief when she finally decided to let go of the rope, and he crashed onto the floor, coughing and sputtering. He hacked out a single “MotherFUCK!” while gasping for breath, and then aside from his ragged breaths he was silent.

“I am an expert at hanging,” Terezi began, as she used the rope to pull Gamzee back up to his feet. “Many a criminal scalemate has felt my wrath, and embraced death as the noose snapped his neck.”

She hoisted him back into the air for a few seconds, and once again he struggled and choked.

“But hanging can be used as a torture method, too. You can punish someone without killing them. I bet your ancestors did it all the time, back when the courts were even more harsh than they were when we lived on Alternia.”

Gamzee crashed to the ground and strained once more against his bonds.

“But you wouldn’t know a thing about that! You just gorged yourself on pie and ate and ate and never learned a thing. You talk shit about your ancestors and miracles and everything you are allowed to do just because you have indigo blood but you are so clueless!”

She gripped the rope tightly and pulled him back up, holding him in the air until he looked like he was about to pass out, and then she let go of it and he slammed into the ground again. She pulled him up and tied her end of the rope around a pipe once he was back on his feet, so that he was still trapped in place. She slowly walked towards him, grinning menacingly.

“Those were for Nepeta, and Equius, and Vriska, too. For my friends – and your friends, too! And this…” She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him towards her. “…is for me!”

Terezi forced her lips to his and bit down with razor-sharp teeth, drawing forth his grapey blood. It bubbled out around her tongue as she kissed him and she struggled to break free, and she pulled away grinning with her mouth dripping a violent indigo shade. She swirled the blood around in her mouth and spat it onto the ground, and his scream was louder than any she had heard before.

“WHAT DID I MOTHERFUCKIN’ SAY ABOUT KISSING ONTO ME?”

“I don’t care what you said.” She told him. Gamzee thrashed and yelled and gnashed his teeth and got nowhere fast, unable to break his bonds and afraid to move lest he trip over himself again. Terezi waited until he had just about tired himself out before she spoke again: “I’ve had enough. You’re a lot more boring than I thought you would be. I am leaving, and I will send Karkat back here later so he can calm your rude ass down!”

At Karkat’s name Gamzee seemed to mellow out, and he contented himself to hang there in his binds with a half-stoned grin on his big stupid face.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, gonna be nice to see my best motherfuckin’ bro…”

Terezi turned on her heel and marched out of the room, still cackling. Maybe she’d let him stay there in his bindings and stew for a while before telling Karkat where he was.

Maybe she’d just let him stay there until someone else found him.

**Author's Note:**

> This mini-fic was an (incredibly late, whoops) prize for Nysus, who was one of the winners of a giveaway run by Skaian Library. Skaian Library was a Tumblr blog dedicated to showcasing good Homestuck fanfiction, and encouraging more people to write.


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